None of This Should Be Happening!
by Ivory Tower
Summary: When a perverted item is stolen from Dumbledore's office, he enlists the aide of Hermione and Snape to find it-after he forces them to marry, of course.


Title: None of This Should Be Happening!  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters.  
  
Hermione timidly entered Dumbledore's office.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" she asked.  
  
Dumbledore smiled because that's what Dumbledore does best, aside from buying candy off the black market and then offering it to innocent little children.  
  
"Ah, yes, Miss Granger. Have a seat. My, what beautiful weather we are having today, though a little dry for this time of year. My ass gets so itchy-"  
  
"Um, exactly what is this about, Headmaster?" interrupted Hermione.  
  
Dumbledore tossed the lid off a box of chocolates and dumped half the chocolates into his mouth.  
  
"The life size marble replica of Merlin's crotch is missing."  
  
Hermione blanched. "Oh my goodness! Merlin's crotch didn't get lost, did it?"  
  
"I fear it is worse than that, Miss Granger. I fear that the marble replica of Merlin's crotch has been," insert close up of Dumbledore's face, "*stolen*!"   
  
Dramatic music sounded and Hermione fainted!  
  
Just then, the door burst open and in swept Professor Snape with a mandolin.  
  
"Headmaster, you'll never believe what I caught Potter and Weasley doing with this!" Snape slammed the mandolin onto Dumbledore's desk. Its melodic twang momentarily broke the tense moment.  
  
"I am glad you are here, Severus. Something terrible has happened!" Albus told the potions master.  
  
Snape then noticed Hermione and sneered.   
  
"I told you that Miss Granger was doing more than holding innocent late night study sessions in the Restricted Section of the library, Headmaster."  
  
Hermione, who'd come to, gasped.  
  
"How *dare* you accuse me of handing out sex like cheap candy! *I* happen to charge a fee for services rendered, Professor."  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Remember yourself, Miss Granger. Severus, catastrophe has struck. The model of Merlin's marble crotch has been," cue dramatic piano music, "*stolen*!"  
  
Snape staggered backwards and onto the couch beside Hermione.  
  
"Not the one with the gold detail!"  
  
"The same." replied Dumbledore grimly. "As you know, Miss Granger has recently lost both her parents and the Ministry has reinstated the Marriage Law for all wizards and witches between the ages of 11 and 17."  
  
"Yes! Yes!" said an impatient Snape. "What has that to do with Merlin's marble crotch, Headmaster?"  
  
Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were suddenly piercing.  
  
"You and Miss Granger shall marry and recover Hogwarts most valuable possession. It looked so lovely beside Fawkes' perch."  
  
Snape was outraged.   
  
"Headmaster, I must protest!" he protested.  
  
Hermione's mouth thinned.  
  
"I will not sleep in the same bed with this oversized bat! What if he sleeps naked? Ohhhh...I feel nauseous." Hermione clutched her stomach.  
  
Dumbledore looked most solemn.  
  
"I must insist upon this. The two of you are the smartest people in the school, aside from being the only ones I can trust *not* to defile the statue of Merlin's crotch."  
  
Later that week...  
  
Hermione and Snape strolled arm in arm through Diagon Alley, searching for clues.  
  
"What kind of deranged pervert would steal a marble replica of Merlin's crotch?" grumbled Snape, scoping the crowd.  
  
"You're holding my arm too tightly, Professor. Let go!"  
  
"Silence, you insufferable know-it-all. This is your entire fault for allowing your parents to die. Now I am stuck with you for the next hundred years! I hate my life."  
  
Hermione looked snooty.  
  
"Some honeymoon this is," she huffed. "Here I am looking for thieves and listening to you gripe instead of basking on a beach or enjoying an exotic cruise. Maybe we should check down Knockturn Alley."  
  
"That is precisely where we are headed, Miss Granger. Oh, if any shady characters approach us and ask me why I no longer sell my body for mere pocket change, ignore them. Is that understood?"   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as they passed Borgin and Burkes.  
  
"Great. My husband is an ex -man whore. That's it. I am *not* sleeping with you, Professor!"  
  
Snape raised his black eyebrows.  
  
"Indeed? I always thought a bit of the old in-out would benefit you immensely, Miss Granger. I did allow you to keep your maiden name, did I not?"  
  
Hermione frowned.  
  
"That is hardly enough generosity for me to allow you to poke me, Professor Snape! Let's go in this second-hand bookstore. The replica of Merlin's crotch may be hidden in a secret underground lair beneath the building."  
  
"Or shoved up an unsuspecting clerk's bum," muttered Snape savagely as they entered the bookshop.  
  
The place was a real hellhole, complete with wrinkled old men wearing used garters and badly tattered nylons. Hermione stayed close to Snape as they browsed. A toothless, acne-ridden teenager hurried over to greet them.  
  
"Welcome, my droogs. Anything I can help you find?"  
  
"Do you have any copies of 'Hogwarts: A History'?" inquired innocent Hermione. Snape elbowed her. "I mean no thanks. We're just looking."  
  
The toothless, acne-ridden teenager turned to Snape and said, "Quite a confused daughter you've got there, sir."  
  
Snape's mouth thinned.   
  
"She is my *wife*, you insufferable twit!"  
  
The toothless, acne-ridden teenager's buy eyes grew buggier.  
  
"Oi! So's you're tellin' me her hair wasn't bushy like that until you got her in the sack?"  
  
"Oh Merlin, I feel sick, " groaned Hermione, staggering.  
  
Snape quickly seized her hand and pulled her to the back of the store.  
  
"What is wrong with you? Are you trying to blow our cover?" he hissed in a ferocious whisper.  
  
Hermione passed a hand across her head.  
  
"I just imagined you naked...I feel faint. I'm going to be sick!"  
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," growled Snape, seizing Hermione's shoulders and ushering her towards the nearest room. Kicking the door open, Snape hurried his new wife into the empty room just in the nick of time. "I feel like a father, not a husband. This isn't right, "bitched Snape as Hermione hurled. "I even broke down and bought two new pairs of black bikini underwear, but do you appreciate it? Ungrateful women-all of you! I showered *twice* this month in anticipation of-"  
  
Hermione vomited most violently upon hearing this tidbit of information.  
  
"Please, Professor, shut up," she sobbed.  
  
"...trimmed my toenails-something I have not done in ten months. Not to mention the astonishing amount of earwax..."  
  
Hermione proceeded to dry heave. What had she done to deserve this? At long last, her stomach calmed down. Snape gave her a piercing look.  
  
"Would you like a glass of water?"  
  
"Yes, please," replied Hermione gratefully. Maybe Snape wasn't so bad after all.  
  
"Do you see any water in here, Miss Granger? Do I look like a walking concession stand? I do not keep water in my robes, you know. Oh, sure, I know what you are thinking: 'But you're a *wizard* Professor Snape. You could *conjure* me up a glass of water'. Well, fuck you, Miss Granger. I am not your servant. I am your husband! You cannot expect me to cater to your every whim. Besides..."  
  
Hermione tuned out Snape's bitching before it drove her over the edge. She should have guessed him to be a chronic complainer. To pass the time, Hermione had a look around the small, plain room. It was really quite ordinary. Too ordinary.  
  
'Hmmm, ' Hermione thought, knocking on the walls to feel for hollow spots.  
  
"...if you think I am going to give you flowers and chocolates on our anniversary, you are sadly mistaken, Miss Granger. Furthermore, when I retire to my sleeping quarters at the end of the day, I expect my sweater to be folded neatly on my armchair. Be sure to hand wash that sweater and hang it to dry facing southeast..."  
  
"Yes, Professor, " replied Hermione absent-mindedly, digging at a crack in the floor with her toe. The wall to her left opened to reveal a spacious room with a large onyx pedestal. Upon this onyx pedestal stood the marvelous reproduction of Merlin's crotch in marble and splendorous gold detail.  
  
"Merlin's crotch, Professor!"  
  
"How dare you curse at me, Miss Granger! I will not tolerate this behavior from my wife!"  
  
"No, dummy! Look."  
  
Snape looked.   
  
"Well shit and fall in it," said he. "How utterly convenient. Let's grab Merlin's crotch and get the hell out of here."  
  
Both husband and wife hurried over and each grasped the marble replica of Merlin's crotch.  
  
"It's...so...heavy, " gasped Hermione.  
  
"Don't grip it like that, you foolish girl! Do you want Merlin's penis to break off? How ignorant can you be, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione glared at Snape.  
  
"And I suppose you're an expert on handling Merlin's crotch, Professor? Wait. How silly of me! Of course you are, being an ex-man whore and whatnot."  
  
"Do not *ever* call me a man whore again you...harpy queen, " snarled Snape.  
  
"Man whore!"  
  
"Queen of the harpies!"  
  
"Man whore!"  
  
"Queen of the harpies!"  
  
As the two argued, they tugged for control of the marble replica of Merlin's crotch. Their hands simultaneously slipped and Merlin's crotch fell to the floor with a mighty crash! Silence ensued. Hermione looked at Snape, and he at her.  
  
"We-we should have used Wingardium Leviosa," stated trembling Hermione at long last. "Well...at least we can use the Reparo spell."  
  
Snape glared at her.  
  
"This is no ordinary marble statue, you moronic little girl! Magic is useless to it! We are ruined! We have defiled Merlin's Marble Crotch in the worst possible way! Woe!"  
  
Hermione began to cry.  
  
"Dumbledore trusted us and we've failed him!"  
  
Snape suddenly developed shifty eyes.  
  
"We? I believe *you* are the one who let go first, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione became so enraged she kicked Snape in his marvelous Slytherin nuts.  
  
"You greasy, bat-like man whore!" she yelled.  
  
"Woe!" shrieked Snape, grabbing his privates and collapsing onto the floor beside the pieces of Merlin's glorious crotch.  
  
Hermione had an idea.  
  
"Come on, Professor! Let's find something to hide these pieces in. Stop rolling around moaning and help me."  
  
Two hours and fifteen minutes later...  
  
Inside a convenient and secret place, Hermione and Snape restored the marble replica of Merlin's crotch with...  
  
"Superglue, Miss Granger? A *Muggle* invention? This is lunacy."  
  
"So is the thought of you in leather chaps. See? It's working!"  
  
Snape sighed and placed his pale hands on his narrow hips.  
  
"I hardly think this Muggle concoction will hold up indefinitely."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Of course it won't! But it'll last until Dumbledore gets it back and, um, defiles it."  
  
"Miss Granger!" exclaimed a really mortified Snape.  
  
Hermione gave her husband an exasperated look as she pressed the last piece into place.  
  
"Honestly, Professor! Everyone knows that Dumbledore uses Merlin's crotch for his own devious sexual pleasure. It is a perfectly horrid statue that no person of good breeding would keep in his office!"  
  
Snape looked murderous.  
  
"How dare you say such things about the Headmaster!" he snapped, baring his yellow, uneven teeth at Hermione.  
  
"Oh, pull your head out of your bony ass, Professor Snape. Dumbledore is hardly the saint he pretends to be. I happen to know that he is on Dominatrix Delights preferred customer list."  
  
"Is it a crime to love kink?" demanded Snape, waving his arms so that his black sleeves billowed like a great bat.  
  
"Do you think I give a damn that Dumbledore likes marble dildoes? I'm furious at him for forcing me to marry you. I'd rather drink spit!"  
  
"Fine!" flared Snape. "As soon as we deliver Merlin's crotch to the Headmaster, we are off to the Ministry to file for divorce."  
  
Later that day...  
  
Snape frowned at Percy Weasley.  
  
"A month! I don't want to wait a month for the paperwork to process. I want to divorce her this instant!"  
  
"Percy *please*? As a favor to a friend! He reeks of scallions and cough suppressant. I have to sleep in the same bed with this oversized bat. He gurgles like a freak in his sleep."  
  
"Miss Granger drools all over her pillow and always ends up with the sheet twisted around her by morning. She is deranged!"  
  
Percy sighed.  
  
"Might I suggest a marriage counselor?"  
  
Snape's black eyes narrowed.  
  
"Weasley, I suggest you finalize our divorce this instant before I use you to wipe my bony ass!"  
  
Percy looked snooty.  
  
"Threats will not accelerate the process, Professor. The Ministry has a very concise system by which..."  
  
Snape screamed and pulled at his greasy black hair. Hermione thought of folding Snape's black underwear and began to cry. Alas, there was nothing for them to do but go home together.  
  
Back at the bat cave-I mean, Snape's dungeon dwelling...  
  
"Miss Granger, where is my sweater?" demanded Snape, going through his wardrobe.  
  
"I don't know. It's not my sweater. It's not my responsibility to keep track of it!" shouted Hermione from the bathroom.  
  
Snape snarled and lit a cigarette. In another month this would all be but a merry memory. He sat on the edge of the bed and took out tomorrow's lecturing notes. Hermione emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a T-shirt, drying her hair with a towel.  
  
"Crookshanks!" she cooed, tossing the wet towel aside and ran over to pick up her beloved cat.  
  
The wet towel landed on Snape's notebook.  
  
At that moment, Ron Weasley was just outside the door, delivering a note from Dumbledore because the owls were on strike for the third time that month. Imagine his surprise when he heard Snape yell-  
  
"Miss Granger! Stop talking nonsense to that mangy pussy of yours and pick up this towel."  
  
"I do *not* have a mangy pussy, Professor! I keep my pussy very well groomed for your information! You don't even *have* a pussy so you have no room to talk."  
  
"Miss Granger, what in Merlin's gay hell would I do with my own pussy? Talk ridiculous nonsense to it as you do?"  
  
"I love my pussy, Professor Snape!"  
  
"Well stop shouting about it. You make a horrid wife, Miss Granger, paying more attention to that bedraggled, temperamental pussy of yours than to your own husband!"  
  
Ron was physically ill by this time. He felt faint and weakly knocked on the door.  
  
"Miss Granger, get your hands off that demented pussy and answer the door."  
  
"Why don't you answer it, Professor? I'm not your maid. I haven't paid my pussy much attention since marrying your sorry ass and going on that hunt for Merlin's crotch."  
  
This proved entirely too much for poor Ronald. He passed out just as the door opened.  
  
"Oh my goodness! Ron's dead!" gasped Hermione and sank to her knees.  
  
Upon hearing this, Severus Snape leapt up with a cry of joy and promptly danced a jig while Crookshanks watched, unimpressed.  
  
"Wait-he's not dead, Professor!"  
  
"Shit, blast and fucksprites!" hissed Snape and resumed his dignified sitting position.  
  
Ron came to and regarded Hermione with growing horror.  
  
"You're disgusting!" he croaked and scrambled to his feet as he tossed the letter inside Snape's room. "Everyone told me you two were doing incredible and terrible sexual things, but I wouldn't listen!"  
  
"Oh, please do calm down and come inside for a visit," wheedled Hermione, desperate for decent company.  
  
"I will not go inside that debaucherous cavern of porn! Not on your life!"   
  
Once Ron was safely on the stairs, he paused and yelled, "You and Snape have made me fear sexuality! I hate you all forever!"  
  
Snape stomped into the drafty corridor.  
  
"Stop that racket this instant, Weasley."  
  
Ron paled, pointed at the Potion Master, and shrieked, "Crotch hunter from the ninth pentacle of hell!"   
  
Ron then ran away. Far away.  
  
"Weirdo," grumbled Snape, returning to his room as Hermione retrieved the important letter from Dumbledore.  
  
"Um...Professor..."  
  
"What *is* it, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione held up the letter with a trembling hand. It was a Howler.  
  
"We're in BIG trouble."  
  
~FIN~ 


End file.
